Son of Destiny
by No.311
Summary: There were many instances that Harry Potter cursed his fate. As a result, he blamed his destiny on him being fate's bitch. He was wrong. (rated M for no particular reason, thought I'd play it safe).


**Son of Destiny**

* * *

 _There were many instances that Harry Potter cursed his fate. As a result, he blamed his destiny on him being fate's bitch. He was wrong._

* * *

 **AN before the story: Here it is, my small idea that kept nagging me for a long time. Hope you all like it. Because I'm not going to do an AN at the end of this, I'm immediately telling you I am not going to continue this. I haven't even read the full Sandman yet. As of such, it may be the case that my Destiny is a bit OC. This is not intentional. I will revisit this after I finish reading the Sandman, have read Endless Nights,** **Ouverture** **, and (optionally) have finished the Lucifer series. Meanwhile, enjoy.**

 **Once again, I have a Ficly challenge (A challenge in writing for myself. A challenge can be about almost anything, as long as it involves me writing a story). Good luck guessing what it is.**

 **Remember, I have not read the full Sandman series yet. I don't know what happens after Brief Lives. Don't spoil it for me in any way. Thanks.**

 **I don't own anything you recognise.**

 **Update: As of now, I've finished the main Sandman series (not Endless Nights and Ouverture), and I loved it. I stand by my characterization of Destiny.**

* * *

Destiny read. Walking slowly in his gardens, announced by the slight chinking of the chain that bound him to his power and responsibility, Destiny read. Sitting on the occasional bench, the view went completely unnoticed, for Destiny read. Drinks and food were brought for his leisure by his flying mantles, as Destiny read.

There were only sparse occasions that Destiny didn't read. Most of these occasions were when he had to interact with his brethren, because his book had shown him the importance of doing so. Once in a while, when his Book dictated it, he took a small break. Only once in his life, he stopped reading because of something in his book. The first time was when it was written in his Book that there would be only two times he would stop reading because he was surprised of what was in the Book. The second time hadn't come yet.

Until now.

He had seen it coming, if only slightly. The Book had mentioned that he was going to think about it, and he had thought about it. A slight smile creeped up his cheeks: another mystery closed. Another chapter finished. He took a sip of his beverage. Then, he read on, letting the Book tell him what must be done.

* * *

Lily woke up with a gasp, as the lingering dream fled to the corners of her mind, leaving her with only a vague memory of mazes. She sat up at her place in the new bed, a present for her wedding. Next to her laid her new husband, James Potter. She smiled at him, even though he wouldn't notice, and watched him for some time, before deciding to go down to the kitchen to get herself some tea.

The manor was big, and she was still getting used to the multiple portraits that littered the walls of the house, as well as the other magical things in her new home. But it was night, and the only light that came in through the windows was the light of the moon, and as her footsteps tapped onto the tiled floor, she noticed that the portraits were all asleep. Some snored, some murmured, and one looked like he was having a nightmare.

Lily got her wand out, and whispered a spell to banish that particular portrait's bad dreams, before she continued her way to the moderately sized kitchen. She searched for the tea, and as she found it she tapped some water from the sink and put it on the fire. She glanced through the window that gave her a look at the front yard, and she thought once more that it was more like a front plain. Her eyes wandered, but stopped abruptly as she saw a tall figure stand before the iron gates. He wore a cloak, but one of the more defining features was the prominent book he carried with him, bound in metal chains. She quickly looked away, maybe he had seen her watch, and frantically tried to think of a course of action. But when she walked back, the figure had bypassed the iron gates, and was slowly walking towards her front door.

* * *

Lily tried to find her way back as she ran through the long hallways, but for some reason, they kept changing. She tried to wake the portraits, but for some reason, they wouldn't be roused. She tried to use the floo, but for some reason, it wouldn't work. Fear had gripped her heart, as she desperately tried to escape the figure which was surely gaining in on her, but it proved fruitless, as suddenly, when she opened a door, the figure was standing right in front of her. She screamed, as the hooded man looked absolutely menacing, in Lily's paralysed mind, and she sunk down on her knees.

"Please…" She stammered, but she couldn't find any ways to finish that sentence. Instead, a tear rolled down on her cheek, as the man came even closer.

As the man reached her, she prepared for the worst, and as such she was pleasantly surprised when he just laid a hand on her shoulders.

"You don't need to fear me." He said, his voice ancient and wise sounding. "You have nothing to fear. Sleep, for now. We are to meet again."

Lily gasped as she shot up, her blankets falling down to the floor as they slid off her.

"Lils?" James said. "What's wrong?"

But she couldn't remember.

* * *

Dream looked at his elder brother, the air around him tinged with just the slightest annoyance. His elder brother knew why Dream wasn't agreeable, but made no move to change it. Instead, he spoke.

"It is to happen. It will happen. My thanks to you, Dream. After this is over, your debt will have been repaid."

And Destiny said down on a nearby chair, as Dream stalked away to do his duties. Destiny had responsibilities to take care of. He cared not about his brothers preferences to how to interact with the human world.

* * *

From then on, Destiny kept visiting Lily sporadically. The dreams were always the same, and she learned to recognize them quickly, for she didn't like Destiny. Their talks were mostly about the Endless, and Destiny indulged her with information she shouldn't have been told, not only because it was written in the book that way, but also because he _wanted_ to.

He didn't know the foreign emotion. He had to ask Lily what it meant, and she told him, unbelieving that he did indeed not know what _wanting_ was. He learned much from Lily Potter, and she learned a little from him.

But, in the waking world, she never remembered.

* * *

James Potter had a dream. A dream in which a tall robed figure told him he was going to bed his wife. A dream full of shouting, fighting, cursing, glaring, insulting, staring, commenting, talking, and, eventually, understanding. Destiny told James not to blame his wife, and James understood. Destiny told James not to blame him, and James didn't understand. Destiny told him it was to happen, and James asked him why. Destiny told him it was written since the dawn of time, and James cursed the writings. Destiny apologized awkwardly, but James left.

James woke up with sadness in his soul, sadness in his mind. Despair tried to grab him, but James resumed life, and bore his fate.

* * *

The talks grew into more than talks, as Destiny advanced on Lily with the finesse of a man who knows the future. Lily withdrew into herself, as she rejected the advances of the man she'd come to trust. Sad at his betrayal, she evaded him in the dreams for a long time.

And still, she couldn't help to go back to him. She knew it needed to be done. Destiny always spoke the truth to the best of his abilities.

* * *

It was on the 31st of July that Harry Potter was born. He was very pale, James noted, paler than his or Lily's skin. In all other aspects, though, Harry looked almost exactly like James, down to the unruly tuft of hair on his head. Lily didn't remember, but James did, and he thanked the powers that be for the small gift they gave him, that his not-son would at the very least look like him.

And Destiny and Death watched him, as Destiny smiled and Death grimaced, feeling his lifetime barrel toward its end.

* * *

Harry Potter first opened his eyes on the 31st of July, one year after his birth. They smiled, and Destiny watched, as he felt some foreign emotion wrench in his heart when he saw them sparkle.

* * *

Lily saw the woman stand behind her. She was pale as a sheet, whiter than white, and she was smiling at her. Lily wanted to run towards her baby, but the hand on her shoulder kept holding her back.

Lily cried as Voldemort cast his spell, and laughed as she saw what happened afterwards. Then, when she had seen that Harry had survived the collapse of the house, Death led her away, to James and Destiny.

And she remembered.

* * *

It was late at night when Harry James Potter was left on the doorstep of number four Privet Drive, eyes closed shut, waiting until the day it was needed to open them again.


End file.
